


Kisses

by mizunoiro



Category: OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes
Genre: Additional Tags in Author's Note, Canon-Typical Violence, Comedy, Domestic, Established Relationship, Fluff, Kissing, M/M, Romance, Slice of Life, So much kissing, cameos from everyone else
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-13 23:48:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 12,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29410044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizunoiro/pseuds/mizunoiro
Summary: Happy Valentine's!Here's a collection of kisses between Boxy and PV and the stories that go with them, in order from pre- to post-canon. Villainous romance might not be always smooth, but Cob dang it if it's not as sweet as chocolate hearts!Pre-canon: chapter 1Boxman Crashes - Dendy’s Video Channel: chapters 2-TBALet’s fight to the end - Let’s be forgiven: TBAPost-canon: TBAPlease, read the chapter-specific tags in the notes! There's important info in them!The fic is finished and updates will be regular, so read bravely. ;)
Relationships: Lord Boxman/Professor Venomous (OK K.O.! Let's Be Heroes)
Comments: 67
Kudos: 46





	1. An Air Kiss

**Author's Note:**

> A million thanks to [anonymousEDward](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anonymousEDward/pseuds/anonymousEDward) who valiantly beta-ed the 100+ pages of this fic's draft. I'm so, so grateful for all the time and energy, and seeing the fic through your eyes through your comments was even more fun than writing it. You're the best!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi! Here's something of a bonus chapter, and the only one in which Laser appears directly. Have fun!

Laserblast inched down the darkened corridor towards the strip of light, tense, determined and waiting for his cue to proceed. He had to pull this off flawlessly - it was the sort of mission whose consequences would be simply _unthinkable_ , if he were to blow it. He shuddered at the mental image of what the newspapers would say if they ever caught a whiff of this…

_No. Think of something else._

For example, he was still dang mad at his team for the way all eyes had suddenly, surreptitiously turned to Silver Spark, the brilliant, but still very new addition to their team, when this mission had first been suggested. She had looked so uncomfortable... Well, it had only made him volunteer all the faster. 

Yes, this mission could stab him where it hurt the most, but he could admit to himself that he was nothing if not a thrill-seeker. He grinned a bit and, despite his accelerating heartbeat, inched even closer to the dark curtain that still hid him from view.

The lights went out. He took a deep breath, gripped the curtain and braced himself.

And there was his cue.

He was barely out, when the sudden flash of projectors and the following screaming startled and disoriented him for a second. If it weren’t for his visor, he would have been blinded, he was sure. Even with it, he could barely see anything beyond the columns of brightness lighting the way to his goal and the reflections of the glitter on the floor.

He put on an expression of cool boredom, stretched just a little, for the show, and proceeded confidently to the front stage, doing his best heroic strut. It was easier, he supposed, when he couldn’t see the people around him, for now. 

But when he playfully cocked the ankle of his heavy boot behind the pole, just a little, in a way that he knew accentuated the muscles of his thigh even through his suit, and examined his black leather gloves with deliberate care, he found that it was actually not in order to gather his courage, as he’d intended, but in order to _tease_.

_Let’s have some fun then, shall we._

He gave everyone a heroic wave, flashed them his trademark smile, and then in one smooth motion flung off the black leather jacket he’d received before the show, and leaped right onto the pole.

Judging by the shrieks, he had his audience now, if he hadn’t before. So, he went down to business with some of the more basic moves he knew.

The mission was straightforward - there was an elusive high-level supervillain their colleagues had been unable to take down for months now, and their sources said that he’d be in the club that night, making an evil deal. So he had to catch his eye, strike an acquaintance, infiltrate his base, gather evidence, and bust his butt. Easy-peasy.

 _Cob those two, Foxtail and Greyman! I’ll show them that I’m the best option for this mission, not some newbie!_ He fumed and spun around the pole like he had something to prove, holding on only on ankles and elbows, and letting the audience take a veeery good look at his assets.

Then, he landed as gracefully as a panther, and tossed his tank top to the ground, just as unexpectedly as the jacket. The crowd went spare.

_Too easy._

Well, not that it had been _all_ smooth sailing. He’d almost had a heart attack when the tiny lady called Ginger who owned the club had tossed him a Laserblast costume the very moment he had turned up to ask for a job. 

If anyone ever found out that he wasn’t just a buff dude in a stage costume, but the real deal…

_No, no, nope, no thinking of that. There’s no room for failure in this mission._

As the accompanying music ebbed a bit, he made a show of considering what he should do next, eyeing the pole, one hand on his cocked hip, and the other scratching just below his helmet. It had the added bonus of allowing him to turn on its scanner in plain sight, before hopping back into action.

His helmet’s sensors (it was the real one, not the club’s cheap fake) quickly scanned the whole place. Very few in the crowd lit up as villains, and only a single one stood out as a negative 8 level.

 _I got you now_ , Laserblast thought gleefully as he lazily slid down the pole upside down, legs at a perfect ten minutes to two o’clock. He was nearing the grand finale and it was the perfect pose to hold eye-contact and then wink at his target.

Zero reaction.

 _Huh??_ Laser almost slipped off the pole. 

_Ah, the dang visor. Phew._

Right, right. Winking wasn’t going to get him anywhere, for once. Too bad, it was one of his most charming acts. Well, in that case, time to try the cheesier, but also very efficient second best. 

So he swung back up, thighs tightly gripping the pole, leaned away as far out as he could and sent just the sweetest air kiss at his target.

The reaction was still a bit muted. Well, not unexpected, for a high-level supervillain. And a pretty cute one at that, if Laserblast was any judge. Unexpectedly cute, in fact. He probably had hot people throwing themselves at him all the time.

Well, Laserblast sure wasn’t going to lose to any of them, he thought and smirked as he flowed off the pole and oh-so-casually stuck his thumbs in the hem of his stage pants. A moment later, they landed in the lap of his villain, having missed his face just barely.

_You’re mine, villain._

In the audience, one blisteringly embarrassed and utterly confused Lad Boxman nearly imploded on the spot. He knew, he just _knew_ he should have gone go-karting for his birthday, like every year! Dang his supervillain “pal” who gave him this stupid idea!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> He-heh, I wonder what happened next. >] I would absolutely
> 
> **LOVE**
> 
> to hear what you thought! No comment is too small or too late!


	2. A Kiss As A Suggestion

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And since it's Valentine's, have a second chapter, as a treat! <3  
> This one takes place immediately **after the episode "Boxman Crashes."**

Professor Venomous stared at the closed door.

_What are you supposed to do when the rush of adrenaline suddenly drops away, like a blindfold from your eyes, and you realize that you’ve taken a giant leap into the unknown?_

His answer had always been the same - wing it, keep charging, land on your feet, pretend that was the plan all along. Fake that you’re in control, and the world will buy it. And if the world buys it, what does it matter if you knew what you were doing anyway?

Now, faced with this door, he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

It was a plain door, even a little shabby. There was no lock. All he had to do was knock, and Boxman would be on the other side, and they’d…

What would they do?

He buried his warming face in his hands and rubbed his eyes. Cob, he knew perfectly what he _wanted_ them to do, and he was pretty certain Boxman did, too, but… 

It was so _strange_. For once, he knew _exactly_ what he wanted. It was right on the other side of this door. For all he knew, Boxman wasn’t averse either. There were zero obstacles. In fact, he’d just personally bulldozed all of the obstacles by spending the majority of his savings to buy Boxmore. Most people got _married_ with less pomp and circumstance.

It was all just so easy. So fast. So natural. So right.

So _strange_.

His hand knocked on the door.

“Oh! Oh, h-hi, PV!” Boxman wore the _cutest_ tiny, tiny blush on his face when he opened. Not to mention fluffy chicken-patterned PJs.

_Oh Cob, he looks more huggable than a body-pillow, I’m a goner._

“Oh, I’m sorry. Were you going to bed? I just wanted- It’s alright, I can come another time.” 

_Oh, yes, very smooth, run away, you coward_ , his mind helpfully supplied.

“No, no, it’s fine, I just- A big day today, so much stuff happened, and I, I haven’t slept in a bed for some time, uhm, well, except of course your bed-” then he suddenly flapped his arms and blushed furiously “I-I-I mean, t-the guest bed in your house! Not your bed! I’ve never been in your bed! Never even seen it! I may have worn your clothes, but I- Actually, no, nevermind. W-what was I saying, again?” He finished and looked miserably up at him.

 _Well, at least it’s good to know that I’m not the only one absolutely taken aback by our own actions._ He smiled lightly.

“Can I come in?” he asked, gently, strangely reassured by Boxman’s fluster.

Boxman threw open the door and stepped aside, mouth tightly zipped.

Venomous took a deep breath and crossed the threshold.

The room was… well, messy, small, and everything was wildly mismatched - there were pillows, and motherboards, and mugs, and action figures, and small rockets, and socks, and blueprints, and an electric kettle, and even a trophy that said “Chicken Fair 20XX Winner”. Even though Boxman would not have been living in it for quite some time now, it felt more lived-in and somehow cosier than his own house had ever seemed.

“Do you want something? Tea? Or...” Boxman pointed his thumb to a small cabinet in one corner “something stronger? I have unopened apple cider.”

“Maybe later,” he shook his head and leaned on a small chest of drawers with some framed photos on it. “Boxman...”

His Boxy gave him such a soft, expectant, _hopeful_ look.

“You know what we’re doing, right?” he asked, heart thudding in his chest.

Boxman nodded enthusiastically, starry-eyed. Then, as if catching himself, he stuck his hands behind his back, took a step back and his eyes slid away to something behind him.

_No, Boxy, I want you to be excited! I want you to look at me! Don’t hold back. I don’t know if I can do this if you hold back on me._

“I mean, if you want to, of course,” Boxman said to a portrait of what was probably his grandma, visibly trying not to fidget. “We can be doing whatever you want us to be doing,” he added, addressing a small, prickly cactus.

“Box, I-...”

“No, really, PV!” Boxman squeaked hurriedly and finally looked at him, wide-eyed. “Whatever you want! I myself am game for anything.” And then he repeated, with a voice desperately pleading with him to try to consider all the possibilities before rejecting him outright, “ _Anything_.”

He felt a pang in his chest that spread all the way to his fingertips and gut. 

_Ah. So that’s it then. That’s why he never went beyond his awkward hugs hello. That’s why he never suggested, or demanded, or expected anything from me. That’s why he is never going to make the first move, or demand more than I can give._

_Well. Time to meet him halfway, then._

“Is that so?” He asked, taking a step forward. “In that case, here’s what I suggest we do.”

Boxman looked up at him with entire galaxies in his big, shiny eyes - one as black as his evil heart, one as red as the burning passion he admired so much. 

He took his mismatched hands and put them lightly on his waist, where they instinctively clutched fitfuls of his clothes. Then he cupped his face and gently caressed with one thumb the happy, little crow’s foot by Boxman’s organic eye.

Boxman must have read what his “suggestion” was on his face and in the look in his eyes, because he gave him the happiest, most innocent, widest smile he had ever seen on him, or on anyone else, ever.

He admired it for a moment, committing it to memory, and then leaned down and kissed him. 

It was a soft, tame kiss, but full of gentleness - the kiss of two people who didn’t know each other very well at all, yet, but were very willing to see what they could discover together beyond this new door they had just opened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel that this is the place in canon where all the behind-the-scenes smooching started. What do you think?
> 
> Comments are loved and appreciated! Emoji, kudos and keyboard smashes, too! And Happy Valentine's!


	3. A Kiss, Interrupted

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact! This was a scene I cut from the draft of my other fic, [A Villain's Guide to Library Affairs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835240/chapters/52109530). If you like this chapter, consider giving it a try!

Just as he’d promised himself when his babies first came off the production line, he was neeeeever going to regret this. However, after Professor Venomous moved in, his kids were making it extra-extra hard for him not to regret making so dang many of them, because they were _everywhere_.

Like right now, for example. He’d hoped to catch the Professor in the garage, as he was just coming home from shopping. But the garage was already full of helpful Darrells taking his shopping - bags that buzzed, seemed to include a lot of flailing tentacles, and featured several biohazard stickers. And just as the last one finally turned his back and Boxman was leaning into the new convertible for a kiss…

“Box, just in time,” Venomous got out of the car, nose stuck in an open folder. “We need to talk about your kids.”

“Oh. Ok,” Boxman sighed dramatically. “What did they do this time?”

“Darrell seems to be very interested in agriculture,” Venomous said, walking away certain that the other would follow. “He’s especially interested in corn production, horses and chickens,” he quoted from his file.

“Huh? I think he just likes to dress up as a cowboy…”

“No, not really. Although…” Venomous gave him a thoughtful look. “He _is_ worried how you might react to his love for chickens, seeing your… situation.” His eyes lingered on Boxman’s left arm. “So he may be reluctant to discuss it with you.”

“Err…”

“But the point is, I’m going to book us for this Sunday for a team-building retreat at a place called ‘Old McDonald’s Farm’. It has five-star reviews on RateMyCorn.corn. I hope that’s alright with you?”

“Yes, yes, of course,” Boxman said and leaned closer to the Professor, “anything you think is good. And maybe now we could-”

“DUCK!” Someone shouted, and as one quickly learned to do in Boxmore when told to duck, duck they did. A huge crate swinging off a crane sailed past.

“Sorry about that!” Raymond shouted from everywhere.

“Raymond!” Boxman shouted back. “Why are _you_ manning the production floor!”

“It’s my turn! The professor put us on a rotation schedule! Isn’t it great!?”

Boxman was about to express his opinion on the greatness of the schedule, when Venomous resumed his stride.

“Yes, and speaking of Raymond, he likes sports, right? I’m also booking us for a beach team-building retreat the Sunday after that. We’ll have to do water sports. And Boxman, I have to tell you something.” Venomous stopped in a doorway and leaned in.

Boxman cheered mentally and puckered up.

“Raymond has a thing with the giant three-headed wave that lives near that beach. But she has several wavelets and he’s worried that they’re at very different stages of their lives and it might not work between them. So I need you to be very supportive, alright? Let them work it out at their own pace.”

“HUH!?” Boxman almost fell flat on his face. “Why didn’t I know anything about that!?”

“Well, you do now,” Venomous went on, taking the stairs to the second floor. “Next, there’s your elder daughter,” he said and studied the entry in his folder. “She’s… to be honest, just a very ordinary teenage girl, really.”

“Yes, I’m very proud of how she turned out. But PV, can we just-”

A band of Shannons with all weapons ablaze galloped down the second-floor corridor like a herd of rhinos, apparently busy in battle training.

“Ladies!” Venomous snapped. “What did we say about training?”

“We do it in the gym or outside, Professor,” the Shannons intoned happily.

“So out you go. Very, very quietly.”

“Yes, Professor!” The Shannons intoned very, very quietly and trooped out in near-perfect silence.

“Whaaa…” Boxman stared after them, jaw on the floor. “How did you do _that_!?”

“So Shannon,” Venomous strode on. “She likes shopping, boys and fashion, and hates…” he flipped a page “...capitalism, the hypersexualisation of young women and girls, and the absence of the female perspective in political and social issue discussions. As I was saying, the same as most young women today.”

Boxman almost walked into an exhaust pipe.

“D-dare I ask what you’re planning for _her_ , then?” He asked, wide-eyed.

“We’ll go shopping.”

“Huh? Doesn’t that seem kind of… I don’t know…” Boxman fidgeted and poked his fingers together.

“And I’ll introduce her to Congresswoman next time we clash.”

“ _The_ Congresswoman!?”

“Do you know, Box,” Venomous stopped so suddenly with a hand on his office’s doorknob that Boxman almost ran into his butt. “I was going to keep Congresswoman for when Fink got to the age when she starts getting interested in these things, but I think your daughter can _really_ kick Congress’s butts, given the opportunity.”

“I, err… thanks, I guess?” Boxman trotted into the office after him. 

Finally, no kids there!

“Then there’s your other daughter. Did you know she’s what they call a…” he sunk in his boss chair and consulted his file “...skinny?”

“Well, they’re _robots_ ,” Boxman stopped his climbing on top of the Professor’s desk long enough to give it some thought. “None of them have any fat, per say.”

Venomous gave him an infinitely patient and resigned look and sighed.

“Suffice it to say, we’ll have to go to a certain convention in a month,” he said and regarded the few small, delicate scales peeking out of his sleeve. “Don’t worry, we won’t stand out all that much.”

“If you say so,” Boxman said in happy innocence and crawled on the desk until his nose almost touched Venomous’s. “And now maybe we can-”

“Welcome home, boss!” Fink chirped. “Boxbutt, get off the desk. Here’s the report on Jethro that you asked me to do, boss.”

“Thanks, Fink, very well done,” Venomous got out of his chair to take the folder his minion was handing him. “Can you give me a summary?”

“He’s right up your alley. He likes classical music, opera and especially ballet. I already booked seats in your usual box in the symphony hall.”

“Perfect,” Venomous said and patted his smug minion’s mane on his way out.

Boxman scampered off the desk, threw Fink a dirty look that she returned with a dignified _bleeeeh_ , and ran after her boss.

“PV! Can we just stop for a moment and-”

Venomous threw open the door to the administrative department, the domain of aaaall the Ernestos, who beamed at them in unison and got up from their seats.

“Oh, bother,” Boxman facepalmed while the professor and the Ernestos debated the merits of going to a DJ talent show at a nightclub versus attending an accountancy conference, with many Ernestos swaying towards the latter, to his horror.

Once that too was done, Boxman tried to inconspicuously drag Venomous by his labcoat aside to a nice, empty corridor where they could-

A small army of Jethros with cleaning equipment attached flooded the corridor.

“ARGH! Enough already!” Boxman roared. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“Box?” Venomous cocked an eyebrow. “Is it just me or are you a little… tense?”

“A little!?” Snarled a huffing Boxman. “I just want to snog you already! And the whole world and your folder want to get in the way!” He shook his fists in indignation.

“Oh. Well why didn’t you just say so.”

Venomous grabbed him, dipped him and gave him a big, showy smooch to a chorus of metallic whistling and cheers from the platoon of Jethros.

“Whaaa…” Boxman commented intelligently as he continued to hang off Venomous’s neck.

“You can ‘snog’ me anytime, Boxman. I couldn’t care less who saw us,” Venomous explained matter-of-factly and adjusted his grip more comfortably.

“Ok,” a blushy and happy Boxman nodded in the crook of his neck. He was definitely planning to take him up on his word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really liked "All in the Villainy!" What do you think are some other activities the young step-parent PV planned for the robokids?
> 
> As always, comments are welcome~


	4. A Kiss In A Place Of Insecurity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter, Boxy and PV are in bed and discussing some sliiight intimate issues. If that doesn't sound like something you like to read, consider skipping to the next chapter. Otherwise, enjoy~

Boxman sat up in bed and tried to make sense of the situation, willing his nether regions to ignore the fact that there was a sliver of purple butt clearly visible on one side of the giant blanket cocoon his partner had just morphed into. This was… definitely new.

“Uuuhm, PV...”

“I’m sorry. This… happens to me sometimes. Not often. Rarely. Once in a while,” the cocoon mumbled and tightened.

Boxman cocked his head and ignored the sliver of purple butt harder. He had expected that at some point, some body issues would crop up. His slight puffiness in the waist area, for example, seemed to be a topic his partners usually gravitated towards. Or the ampleness of his posterior regions. Or the chicken-ly qualities of his arm. But he had certainly never expected the body issues to be _Venomous’s_.

“What did I do wr-” he started and halted. He _hated_ it when his partners worded it like that. So he took a breath and tried again.

“Would you like to stay in there for a bit, or can I do something to make you feel more comfortable out here?”

Boxman could swear the cocoon was blushing. Well, at least it wasn’t bristling.

“It’s just that,” he ploughed on, poking his fingers together, “I’ve noticed before that you have… some...” he mumbled. “Well, that is to say, if you could let me know what it is, I can maybe stop stepping on your landmines?”

The cocoon wiggled indecisively, concealing a bit more of the purple butt, which Boxman was, of course, ignoring.

“Help me out?” He tried to change tactics. “I can’t figure it out myself. You’re...” he gulped “absolutely gorgeous.”

Had he never said that out loud before?

“And you’re so… in-your-body. You do yoga and stuff. And you’re strong and healthy. And really, really hot. Everyone with eyes can see that, so I can’t imagine what could be bothering you.”

“...That’s the problem,” the cocoon finally said.

“Huh?”

“Everyone with eyes can see it. And I’ve worked very hard to keep things that way. Ever since I was 14.”

“Oh.” Boxman’s eyes widened. “I completely forgot that you were a child celebrity hero.” He frowned. “As if being a teenager isn’t hard enough. Did you start at 14?”

“No. I started at 6-11. It was at 14 that I figured out what some, _many_ people wanted from me, besides saving the world.”

“PV,” Boxman blanched. “That’s-”

“You have no idea, the kinds of things people would let you get away with while they’re dreamily staring at your pecs or taking pictures of your butt.”

Boxman felt _searingly_ guilty for not having ignored it hard enough.

“So I weaponized my looks, even if it was unconscious at first. Which is fine, it works great for me.”

 _Does it really?_ Boxman wondered.

“Only sometimes...” the cocoon shifted and Venomous finally sat up and popped his head out, still tightly wrapped in the blanket up to his chin. “Well, sometimes, when it comes to actually being with someone, and not just distracting others with my looks… It gets a little too much.”

“Oh, PV...” Boxman reached out to hold his hands, but then settled for clutching the hem of the blanket instead. “I’m sorry I made you feel like that. I would have never guessed… What should I do? Or, or shouldn’t?”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Venomous gave him a tired smile and extended one hand to hold Boxman’s. “You’re already doing everything I could ask for,” he added quietly. “You’ve gotten me exploded, but you’ve never ‘stepped on my landmines,’ as you put it. I guess… I guess that’s one more thing I like about you.”

“PV...” Boxman seemed to be melting. Then he winced. “B-but I kept trying to hug you before we got together...”

“What, the hugs?” Venomous huffed a laugh. “I didn’t really mind. You always looked even more awkward than me. Besides, you never tried to grope my butt or anything. A lot of people learned the hard way not to do that.”

Boxman, not completely convinced, hugged him, blanket and all.

“Just so we’re clear,” Venomous said, nose now buried in Boxman’s tuft of green hair. “You have permission to grope anything anytime. In fact, I want you to.”

Boxman looked up at him, cheek smooshed against where Venomous’s chest probably was, and seemed to consider something.

“You wanna try this again, then? I have an idea.”

“Sure,” Venomous sighed and straightened up under the blanket. “I think I’m done panicking for the moment.”

Boxman hopped off the bed, turned off all the lights and opened the curtains. The moon and the plaza lights from the other side of Boxmore dispelled and softened the darkness, leaving the two of them as silhouettes in the warm night.

“And now,” Boxman grinned and crawled back into the bed “let’s see if you can open up this blanket a bit.”

Venomous laughed when Boxman tackled him on his back and smooched him. He pulled the blanket over the two of them, until they were cocooned together. 

Boxman wasn’t really sure if this would help Venomous, but it had worked for him in the past, to some extent. Besides, even if it didn’t work, being wrapped together in bed like that was very cosy.

“What’s the next step of your evil plan?” Venomous asked, caressing Boxman’s soft cheeks.

“Now I get you to show me all of those pesky places that make you feel insecure and I kiss them all!” Boxman announced triumphantly from atop him.

“Ouch. All of them?”

“Yes! Let’s start… here.”

Boxman wiggled down and for a moment, Venomous thought he had something scandalous in mind, but then Boxman’s warm breath and soft lips planted a gentle kiss on his chest.

  
Right over his heart.

  
Boxman wriggled back up and smiled at the surprised, happy, soft expression on Venomous’s face. Yes, he really, truly couldn’t wait to kiss _all_ of those ‘pesky places,’ he thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone else think that Boxy should be given the "Best Boyfriend Winner 20XX" award to go with his "Chicken Fair Winner 20XX" award? Just me? XD
> 
> I'd love to hear about your feelings~


	5. A Drunken Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! In case you missed it, Boxy and PV's couple song is real and you can listen to it here: [Two of Hearts](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lfBdGT4dn4E)
> 
> Also, obviously, mentions of being drunk in this chapter, but nothing bad, I promise.

Professor Venomous had a certain reputation in villainous circles for having a dark and tragic past whose horrendous echoes he barely kept at bay, struggling day and night, and never touching alcohol because it might give his demons the opportunity to create a chink in his nigh-impenetrable armor of cool and aloof stoicism.

_🎵🎶 “People get jealous 'cause we always stay together, Yeah, baby” 🎵🎶_

That was _wildly_ inaccurate.

_🎵🎶 “I guess they really want a love like yours and mine, Together, forever”_ _🎵🎶_

Professor Venomous did not dissuade anyone from believing it, and indeed, he did not touch even a drop of alcohol at any kind of villainous parties or private meetings.

_🎵🎶 “I never thought that I could ever be this happy, Yeah, baby” 🎵🎶_

But that was not because he was a teetotaler.

_🎵🎶 “My prayers were answered for you came in the nick of time, Whoa, whoa, whoa!” 🎵🎶_

Nor because he was weak or allergic to alcohol - although, he wasn’t particularly strong either.

_🎵🎶 “I got this feeling that you're going to stay, I never knew that it could happen this way” 🎵🎶_

And neither was it because he wanted to give a positive example to his ever-present young minion Fink.

_🎵🎶 “Before I met you I was falling apart, But now, at last, I really know that we are” 🎵🎶_

No, the real reason for his abstinence was a lot more personal and if it was ever to be revealed, it would have more far-reaching consequences for his villainous career than just some simple tragic past. No, the real reason was...

_🎵🎶”TWO OF HEARTS, TWO OF HEARTS THAT BEAT AS OOONNNEEE” 🎵🎶_

...Professor Venomous was the most utterly _disgustingly_ happy, shmoopy, amorous, giggling, _embarrassing_ drunk on Cob’s great green creation.

And Boxman was one heck of an enabler, he realized fuzzily as they reached the chorus of “Two of Hearts” and he draped his topless self in Boxman’s lap, one arm looped over his shoulders, bottle in hand, and the other swinging with the karaoke microphone.

Boxman was also _hotttttt_ , he noted giddily, and _huuuugggyyyy_! _Yaaaay_!

His self-control, being what it was at the moment, decided it was a great idea to pounce on Boxman’s soft middle and bury his face in his chest, making happy cooing sounds and completely forgetting that he was in the middle of singing something. Boxman squeaked in surprise and dropped his mic. 

“P-professor, maybe we should head home? You seem...” Boxman gestured towards the fancy clothes scattered around in their karaoke room and then pulled Venomous’s face away from his chest just enough to survey the shiny purple cheeks and goofy expression on it. “...yes, you definitely seem ready to head home.”

“Hmmm, Boxy~~” Venomous purred and wiggled up to sit in the other’s lap. “You want to take me home? How forward of you~ I like ittt,” he giggled happily and flung his arms around his neck.

“Uhm. We live together, remember? How much have you had to drink, by the way?”

“Oh. Really?” Venomous squinted and completely ignored the second question. Then he practically shone with a wide, exuberant smile. “That’s great! My place blew up, you see, and that’s _really_ inconvenient for having people over. Would you like to come over? You’re very cute.”

“Ah. So that lab accident didn’t dehimbofy you completely,” Boxman mumbled under his breath while gathering up the stray garments.

“Wot was that?” Venomous asked, amorously rubbing his face and flicking his tongue at Boxman’s exposed neck.

“Time to put on your shirt and go, I said.”

“Hmmm,” Venomous frowned in the deepest concentration. “No.”

“Oh come on, one Fink is more than enough. Clothes on.”

“How about we take yours off instead?” Venomous beamed at him. “That way we’ll match!”

“I could swear you weren’t _this_ drunk ten minutes ago,” Boxman huffed as he tried to manhandle the extremely flexible and persistently handsy snake back into the fancy outfit.

“I’m not drunk!” The professor snapped, and then in the next instant, he had straddled the other and practically melted into happy goo all over him. “Cob, Boxyyyy, how can you be so _perfect_ , you were made to be touched and fondled and...” he gave his mental thesaurus a thorough search “... _squished_!”

“That’s… I’m not perfect,” Boxman mumbled, blushing more than he wanted to admit.

“You are!” Venomous grabbed his cheeks in his palms and squeezed, looking absolutely distressed and grief-stricken that anyone would ever dare to think that his Boxy wasn’t perfect. “You are my perfect-est Boxy!”

And to further make his point, he took aim and pressed their lips together. He managed to nail the corner of Boxman’s lips and was about to continue, but to his sobering shock, he got gently but firmly pushed away.

“What...”

“You’re drunk, PV,” Boxman explained and finally managed to pull the clothes back on him while he was finally still with surprise. “I’m not making out with you like this.”

“You don’t want to?” Venomous whined, looking like Fink did when he was about to ground her.

“I do, but...” Boxman bit his lip, feeling tempted. Venomous’s lip quivered in what, Boxman suspected, wasn’t entirely 100% genuine distress. “We won’t stop there, and you know it.”

He sighed.

“I… I’m really happy that you moved in with me, PV,” he explained, more thoroughly (and more honestly) than he would have dared if Venomous had been perfectly sober. “But it’s been a while since… I’ve had… a real relationship. I’m not easy to get along with, apparently.” He gulped and went on. “I don’t want to ruin a good thing just because someone got drunk once.”

“Boxy...” Venomous breathed and did his best to sober up. “I’ll still feel the same way tomorrow, you know?” He caressed Boxman’s cheeks.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather hear that tomorrow.”

They looked at each other for a long moment.

“You’re a good Boxy, Boxy,” Venomous smiled happily and smooched his nose. “Now help me home, will you?”

“Anytime, PV.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Imagine PV's fellow villains if they got a few compromising videos of a certain drunk, amorous snek singing THAT. XD
> 
> Let me know your thoughts on evil karaoke nights, how adorable our bbs are or what's the weather like in your part of the world~


	6. A Kiss In Anger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Living with people is just so hard, you know? *sigh* Sometimes they're not crazy in the exact same ways you are, and that always comes as a shock. XD
> 
> Also, a shoutout to [Fire_Cooking](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fire_Cooking/pseuds/Fire_Cooking). We all know who the real hero of this chapter is. ;)

Boxman and Venomous had certain… irreconcilable points of ideological disconnect. That is to say, they each had a thing or two which drove the other crazy after they moved in together. 

“Oh,” the Ernesto with _Couples Therapy 101 (For Dummies)_ installed said off-handedly when they presented their grievances in front of him (read: had a shouting match in the kitchen). “So in fact _one_ of you has unchecked anger issues that make him unable to healthily process his beloved partner’s harmless idiosyncrasies and thus endangers your relationship?”

“What do you mean, ‘harmless’!” Venomous hissed, after he was done being shocked.

“What do you mean, ‘iss-” and then Boxman stopped and glared suspiciously. He knew his kids better than Venomous did, after all. “You are talking about _him_ , aren’t you, _son_?”

“Am I?” Ernesto asked, just as lightly. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to wait and see which one of you has an angry outburst first to find out, won’t we?” And he beamed beatifically at the two evil geniuses.

* * *

_An hour later_

* * *

“No, _Stink_ , you’re not approaching this situation as a mature villain, take it from me,” Boxman was saying on the phone when Fink’s name attracted Venomous’s attention. 

_Are the two of them… bonding!?_ He thought in shock before beginning to eavesdrop in earnest.

“Well, now that all of your kidnappers are in the same room with you, the thing to do is off them quietly, mop up the evidence with bleach and come home to have a normal dinner. I’m sure you haven’t had a decent vegetable all day, and you know how your boss feels about healthy eating!”

“Give me that phone!” Venomous shouted and sprinted from across the workshop.

“No, kiddo, you can bring home the corpses and stuff to avoid littering charges. We have a perfectly good industrial incinerator at home, remember?” Boxman managed to impart this final bit of sage evil advice just before Venomous pried the phone from his talons.

He was perfectly calm as he did so. Yes. So calm. Not angry at all. _Cob’s hair, so calm!!_

* * *

_Three hours and one dramatic kidnapping rescue later_

* * *

“Dear Professor Venomous,” Boxman deadpanned, reading from the note that had found its way into their shared heap of official mail, attached to a brick, for some reason.

“I’ll see you at court,” he continued reading, eyebrows crawling up and jaw dropping down.

“Skull emoji; skull emoji; skull emoji,” he enunciated each one.

“I hope you’ll be wearing something loose and bright orange,” he went on, voice steadily increasing in pitch as well as volume.

“It’s the only thing I’ve been able to think about since the last time our paths crossed,” he read with the tone of a medium-sized volcano erupting.

“Very sincerely, Congresswoman!?” He finished reading while his talons finished shredding the brick to fine powder.

Venomous laughed lightly. With his eyes glinting. _Flirtatiously_.

“Ah, yes, dear old Congresswoman. She gets like that sometimes, when her zeal runs away with her.” He sighed happily and sipped his tea. “I just _love_ her _passion_ for me. I really couldn’t ask for a more devoted arch-nemesis. She really _completes me_ , you know,” he propped his chin on his hand and honest-to-Cob _giggled_.

Boxman, as red, stiff and smoking through the ears as a malfunctioning Darrell, turned on his heels and exited the kitchen, a trail of tiny, tiny paper shreds following him.

* * *

_Six hours and one all-Shannon attack on Congress later_

* * *

“Dearly beloved,” Boxman ground out through tightly gritted teeth, his face only an inch from Venomous’s, “is it really too much to ask for you not to ask Big Bull Demon for pics of his… whatever this gross wiggly thing of his is.” He pointed to the stack of photos freshly from the mail that he was clutching.

“Gross? _Gross!?_ ” Venomous bisected a giant amoeba in startled indignation and explained with a death’s-head smile, “Sweetheart dearest, I _designed_ that ‘gross wiggly thing’ for him. It’s a masterpiece of functionality and simplicity of form. And I made him take those pics for my evil portfolio.”

“The one that also contains seven different types of glistening pink multi-purpose tentacles for Vormulax, my cherry cupcake?” Boxman was absolutely not chewing on the corners of the photos of Big Bull Demon’s wiggly thing.

“The very same. And may I remind you, apple of my eye, that _your_ portfolio contains the bubble butts of Billiam Milliam’s glorb-mining robots?[1],” Venomous chirped, tone completely at odds with the way he stabbed at his recently doubled giant amoeba. “And while we’re at it, did _you_ tell Fink to write an honest essay on her home assignment? The one titled ‘What I Did This Summer’?”

“Oh? Are you saying I did that wrong, _too_ , sugarplum-and-cinnamon pie? Cos it sure worked for _my_ kids,” Boxman was so calm and composed that his forehead was now grinding against Venomous’s.

“It was a creative writing essay, ever-blooming magnolia of my dreams,” Venomous explained, trying to grind Boxman into the floor with the sheer force of his forehead. “To teach young villains how to establish plausible deniability and alibis. Now thanks to your _expert advice_ , the parents of half of Fink’s class, myself included, are under investigation for fraud, embezzlement, assault and intimidation with deadly weapons, stock speculation, bitcoin mining and one count of drunk & disorderly while impersonating the ear-of-corn stuffed mascot of a retirement home for scarecrow-craftsmen.”

“Wait, what?” Boxman blinked and almost lost the horn-locking duel.

“Yes, I know, what self-respecting villain would ever be caught dead _mining bitcoins_ , am I right!?”

The two villains glared at each other for a long, supercharged moment.

Then, their mouths clashed together as if they hadn’t seen each other in a year.

“Cob dang it, you’re gorgeous when you’re mad,” Boxman broke away first.

“You’re so delectable when you’re angry I could eat you whole,” Venomous said with a marveling expression on his face.

They jumped each other with gusto right on the floor of Venomous’s lab.

* * *

_Twenty-four hours, one giant amoeba extermination, some thorough lab floor cleaning and some sleep later_

* * *

Under Ernesto’s watchful, smirking eye, the blushing, giggly, sickeningly courteous to one another couple presented themselves for an actual therapy session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. For more details, see ‘[A Villain's Guide to Library Affairs](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21835240/chapters/52109530)’, aka shameless advertisement. XD Back
> 
> Also, I'd love to hear your thoughts on our bbs anger management issues. XD


	7. A Kiss Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, how's it going? For The Voxy bunch, it's going as disastrously as usual~

“Where is my boss?” Fink growled as soon as she got in through the door.

“Fink Venomous?” Foxtail checked her tablet and cocked an eyebrow at her.

“Just Fink. I want to see my boss _now_.”

“Follow me then,” she said and led the way to the POINT holding cell.

The plain white cube with one transparent force-field wall sure was a sight. On one side, there was Congresswoman, of all people, being tightly hugged on all sides by Shannon, Raymond and Darrell. Ernesto was sitting on a plain bench in the middle, petting Mikayla, while Jethro was bonking against the force field. On the same bench was Professor Venomous, sitting hunched and facing the wall. Boxman, wearing a POINT T-shirt way too small for him, was trying to reach the force-field generator cells with a screwdriver.

“Boss! Are you alright, boss!?”

“Yes, Fink. Did you bring bail?” he answered without moving.

“Only for two people. You have the credit cards on you. But what happened?”

When Venomous said nothing, Fink put her fists on her hips and surveyed the rest of the group.

“I go on a school field trip once, _once_ , and this is what you drag my boss into!?” she fumed. “Fess up, what did you clowns do?”

“Well, it was all Professor Venomous’s fault, really,” Ernesto mumbled, petting Mikayla dejectedly.

“No it was not!” Boxman and Fink screeched in unison.

“In fact, you started all this, _son_!” Boxman added and brandished his screwdriver as if he was going to call Ernesto to a duel to defend the professor’s honor.

“I had a perfectly viable, exciting business idea!” Ernesto said haughtily. 

“What I saw sure didn’t look like it,” Foxtail commented.

“It was great! I called it the BoxBox Of Opportune Mystery. BOOM, for short,” Ernesto petted Mikayla aggressively. “It was a subscription service for _boxes_.”

“Like… Just boxes?” Fink made a face.

“And what’s wrong with boxes!?” Boxman chimed in, singed.

“They would contain detonators, robots, accounting software for double bookkeeping, and other exciting necessities for the aspiring or professional villain,” Ernesto recited. “And it was all going great, until _Raymond_ decided to butt in.”

“WHUOAT,” Raymond was so indignant he almost lost hold of Congresswoman’s foot. “Your little scheme was never going to take off without my masterful social media viral marketing campaign!”

“Pfwash,” Ernesto huffed. “It’s all posturing anyway.”

“I’ll have you know that under capitalism, the quality of the product has less to do with its success than its marketing strategy!”

“And yet, it didn’t take~” Darrell rolled his eyes. “Not until _I_ suggested sending unsolicited BoxBoxes to a lot of people and then writing fake reviews from the recipients. That was the true genius of the scheme,” he explained with a puffed-out chest and a strong grip on Congresswoman’s bicep.

“I don’t care!” Fink shouted. “How did that lead to my boss being in a POINT cell?”

“Well, then one hare-brained bot butted in,” Darrell said venomously. “Or should I say, _kitty-brained_?”

Mikayla bristled and hissed something Fink couldn’t catch.

“We needed a big database of people who were into villainy or at least dealing in it,” Ernesto explained for her and Foxtail. “And Mikayla _very, very reasonably_ noted that the largest one we have would be Professor Venomous’s business contact list.”

“Oh no,” Fink eyed Congresswoman, a notable contact of Venomous’s, sensing where this was going. “And then?”

“And then Jethro fell into a BoxBox on the packaging line,” Shannon sighed, adjusting her grip on Congresswoman’s waist and mouth.

“I AM JETHRO!” Jethro defended himself and bonked into Shannon’s leg.

“Well, _you_ didn’t have to panic like that when they unwrapped you in Congress,” she bit back. 

“I AM JETHRO!” he said and bonked her leg again.

“Alright, maybe it was easy to assume you’d been sent to attack it, but why did you tell me it was one of Daddy's orders!?” She kicked him back. “I barrelled in right after you texted me about it and went right at the melee!”

“As if _you’re_ the one to talk about proper communication,” Boxman brandished the screwdriver. “I thought that _Congress_ was attacking _you_! So I naturally came with backup!”

“How can _we_ possibly have been trying to attack _you_ when the melee was in _Congress_ , not in Boxmore!?” Congresswoman managed to get out of Shannon’s grip long enough to shout. “Hmmmpph!” 

“Home is wherever my babies are having a melee at!” Boxman said with the air of someone imparting great wisdom.

“Oh Cob,” Fink rolled her eyes. “And then what?”

“And then, in short,” Darrell took over once more, “daddy messed up the teleportation ray he had brought and transported the whole of Congress into what Congresswoman here tells us is an active volcano, according to what her colleagues texted her.”

“And then POINT swooped in and bagged us, Congresswoman, daddy and all,” Shannon summed up.

“Wow,” Fink managed to say after a stunned silence. “But still, none of that was even remotely my boss’s fault!”

“Actually,” Ernesto chimed in, peeved, “Lord Father misfired the ray only because Professor Venomous _jumped him_ in that moment.”

“He was shirtless, alright!!” Venomous screeched, still hunched defensively in his corner. “He ripped his shirt off! What was I supposed to do, _not jump him_!?”

“YES!!!” everyone shouted at him, except Boxman, who giggled happily and blushed.

Fink facepalmed with a lot of feeling and handed the very entertained Foxtail a wad of cash.

“I’ll take my boss and the politician lady, please. You can keep the rest. _Forever_.”

“You heard the kid,” Foxtail chuckled and disabled a sliver in the field large enough for a slender adult to pass. “Out you go, and no more fighting.”

The bots released Congresswoman and she was out in a flash, but a skittish Venomous lingered to give Boxman a small smooch goodbye on the way out.

“Didn’t you already have enough of that for one day?” Foxtail snickered and Venomous bristled.

“I’ll just go get bail money and be right back, Boxy,” he said and pulled Boxman into a showy kiss while glaring at Foxtail.

“Aw, how sweet,” she smirked. “Boxman, you can keep the T-shirt. As a souvenir from POINT. Maybe wear it to remind your boyfriend not to jump you in the middle of fights.”

Venomous, grumbling, scooped up Fink and left for the nearest ATM without dignifying that with a reply.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fink doth suffer greatly. XD Any thoughts and opinions on the ownership of the brain cell in the family?


	8. A Greedy Kiss

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Ever wondered how our PV maintains those perfect snek looks?

The first time Boxman had ever encountered The Shorts, he hadn’t given them much thought. After all, laundry at Boxmore was an art, not an exact science, and everyone regularly lost a chunk of their items. Besides, between Raymond’s fashion sense and Darrell’s cosplays, a set of short, neon green booty shorts was hardly anything notable. 

Well, maybe the fact that Fink kicked him once in order to reclaim them and called him a pervert should have given him a hint, but he’d just assumed they were hers. They sure were small enough to be. 

So he didn’t get the hint, and now he was faced with the might of The Shorts and the vast damage they were inflicting on his sanity.

Professor Venomous, having just finished his warm-up, slowly bent at the waist, legs straight, hands gripping his elbows, and continued to bend until his torso was practically flush against his legs. The tiny, loose, neon green shorts on purple skin were _mesmerizing_.

Boxman promptly fell off the fitness ball that he was supposed to be ‘strengthening his core’ with, wide eyes never leaving the shorts.

After doing something that didn’t change the fortunate position of the shorts for a while, Venomous assumed a position that looked a lot like a push-up. Boxman managed to take a breath and sit up with his fitness ball. Surely, the professor had not spotted him gawking, right?

And then the man put his forearms on the ground and popped his, erm, shorts, in the air, forming a perfect triangle. Boxman hugged the fitness ball and bit into it, not caring who saw him gawking anymore. Cob, was _this_ the sort of thing that went on daily in his own factory, under his very nose!?

As if that wasn’t enough, one perfect, long, graceful leg went up into the air next, slender muscles tight and defined. Then the other leg. Boxman forgot how to breathe. Was the professor trying to kill him creatively? Fortunately, the exercise was repeated several times, including going back to kneeling position, which gave him a bit of time to recover.

When Boxman finally thought he had himself under control, though, Venomous gracefully arranged his forearms on the ground and then stood on them, shorts straight up in the air, knees bent to his body. He held for a moment, just enough for Boxman to get a good view, and then raised his legs in the air, body straightening up like a candle, or like portions of Boxman’s anatomy that he was trying to hide behind his fitness ball. He whimpered.

“You know, Box,” Venomous spoke, effectively giving Boxman a short-circuit, as he eventually slithered down to a sedate kneeling position. “There was a good reason I kept trying to invite you to come to the Boxmore gym with me.”

Boxman bristled, trying to hide his shape behind the fitness ball, and not failing to notice that their shapes were, in fact, almost identical. “I’m not much for doing yoga,” he mumbled. “I’m more of a strength exercises sort of guy.”

“Mmm,” Venomous honest-to-Cob _purred_ , getting on all fours. “Yes, I _know_.”

Boxman wanted to scream. He was sure he knew in which direction the shorts would go next.

“Yoga does wonders for flexibility, though,” Venomous commented casually, and sure enough, up the shorts went. “People assume I’m naturally flexible because of the whole snake thing, but it’s not true,” he continued as one perfect leg went up again, and then flexed back, knee going towards one elbow, and then another.

Boxman propped his chin on the fitness ball and drooled.

“I like this routine so much better than the bodybuilding one Foxtail had me on when I was a hero. Don’t you think it suits my build more, Boxy?” Venomous went on as he eventually slid into a cobra position. When he didn’t get an answer, he took a peek over his shoulder. “Boxy?”

“Uh-huh,” Boxman intelligently debated the health and aesthetic merits of a slimmer, more flexible complexion versus a heavier, more muscular one, while hugging his fitness ball in a death-grip.

“Box,” Venomous sighed in exasperation and folded into an easy sitting position. “Do you know what I’m trying to get you to do here?”

“Yes, yes, of course, sorry professor,” Boxman jumped out of his skin and tried to crawl on top of his fitness ball. “Strengthening my core, yup, I’m going to strengthen the corn out of it! Yes!” He fell off again. “Stay put, stupid thing,” he grumbled and chased after the ball.

“No,” Venomous deadpanned.

“No?” Boxman asked cautiously, not at all hiding behind his ball.

Venomous stared at him with an unreadable face. 

Boxman started to sweat.

“I’m trying,” Venomous explained with eternal patience, “to get you to jump me.”

Boxman’s talons squeezed the ball so hard it popped.

“OH MY COB PV why didn’t you just say so,” Boxman jumped into his lap so fast that he knocked them both over, and landed astride the professor.

Venomous smirked evilly, looking all too content to be on his back below Boxman.

“What, the shorts weren’t enough of a hint?” he chuckled. “Then I should probably try it in the nude next, hmm?”

“I don’t have enough spare parts for all the short-circuits you’ll give me, PV,” Boxman gushed. “But if you’re looking for things to do in the nude...” he wiggled his eyebrows.

Venomous purred and pulled him down for a kiss and Boxman dove into it with enthusiasm, greedily tasting, breathing, feeling the other. He snuck an arm under Venomous’s waist, all the better to press him to himself, and giddily noted the sheer _want_ in the way his arms wrapped around Boxman’s shoulders and his nails dug into his skin.

“And now Boxy,” Venomous smirked with his flush, glimmering lips, breaking the kiss. “Let me show you just how flexible yoga has made me.”

The neon green booty shorts sailed through the air before he even finished speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In fact, I don't know the first thing about yoga! Clueless. Void. Even though IRL I know not one, but TWO certified Indian yoga instructors. So I just googled "advanced yoga routine" and described what I saw in the video.  
> If anyone knows their yoga and is barking mad at me, you're probably in the right. Let me know. :)


	9. A Kiss In Public

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So many things for a new couple to work on - relationships with mutual friends, comfort with PDAs, the correct amount of C4 needed to blow up the mansions of said mutual friends, organizing their free time together... I mean, who hasn't dealt with all that? AALLLL of it. :)
> 
> And a heads-up: some characters are being really negative about our bbs in this chapter.

“It’s alright, Box,” Venomous had said while adjusting the cummerbund of his brand-new tux, fingers gently ghosting over the softness of his stomach. “I know you hate villainous parties. Go ballistic. Have fun. You don’t have to hold back on my account.”

“A-are you sure?” Boxman had fidgeted at that. “Cos I thought you-”

“I loved what you did at the last party,” Venomous had interrupted him with a smile. “You were _magnificent_.”

And then he had smooched his forehead, and that had been that.

Now, though, faced with all the possibilities for destruction at some nobody villain’s party, Boxman wasn’t so sure anymore. And Venomous, tucked in one corner like the poisonous wallflower he was, wasn’t helping.

He was networking. Apparently, it was very important for business. But at the same time, he knew for a fact that Venomous thought of the other villains as, well, villains and crooks. He shared the sentiment, of course, but now... The other villains _hated_ him, and the idea of dragging down Venomous by association didn’t sit well with him. What was he supposed to do?

As if that wasn’t hard enough to navigate, there was also the problem of _how_ to show that association. Of course, a lot of villains already knew that they lived together. Neither of them had made any effort to hide the fact. And Venomous claimed that he couldn’t care less who knew.

But at the same time, Venomous was… private. It was partly because it was better for business, but also because he had conflicting feelings about the kind of attention his appearance tended to get. Boxman had reason to know a lot about that. And so it was no mystery that Venomous had never once initiated any physical contact between them outside of Boxmore. It was understandable.

Also… it was a little lonely. Boxman had never in his life given a single dang about any of that, and it was all new and strange to him. Maybe he should have asked Venomous directly what would make him happy, he mused to himself as he sadly roamed with his glass of apple cider…

_“...live together? Seriously?”_ he overheard from somewhere.

_“Yeah, Venomous put giant signs and stuff all over the place to let everyone and their minions know he lives there now.”_

_“But like, that’s only for work, right? Look at him. He can’t possibly have shacked up with that… that joke villain!”_

_“You know what they say, no accounting for taste.”_

_“What’s he got to gain? Is he trying to get on the board of villains or something?”_

_“Well, I heard that Boxman’s little toy robots are_ glorb-powered _. If there’s a secret glorb stash or something somewhere in there, a villain might wanna get his paws on that, even if it’s a package deal with a rabid chicken cyborg.”_

_“From what I’ve heard from Billiam, it takes more than a glorb mine to hit that sweet purple butt. I don’t buy it. There’s no way that joke of a villain could get that lucky. It must be just a business scheme.”_

Venomous’s cider glass had shattered in his gloved hand at the first “rabid chicken” comment, but the hitting of the “sweet purple butt” made him go off the deep end. 

_Count down from ten,_ he told himself, _it will pass._

Ten

He already knew what all the villains thought of both Boxman and himself, of course. _And_ he’d managed to navigate the waters of villainy alone for 6-11 years now - all without killing anyone. And besides, what did all those crooks know about anything anyway!?

Nine.

They were all potential customers. They could think whatever the corn they pleased, so long as he could charge them exorbitant prices for his inventions and get rich and powerful off them. And Boxman couldn’t care less about them either. He knew that for a fact.

Eight.

Speaking of Boxman... What in Cob’s name was taking him so long to wreck the stupid party? Last time he’d already been aiming missiles at POINT by now. He couldn’t wait to see their faces at whatever he would do this time.

Seven.

And seriously, were those people blind!? Couldn’t they see how much greater Boxman was than all of them combined!?

Six.

What else did he have to do to announce to the whole world that he was, in fact, _with Boxman_? Put up a billboard with a picture of the two of them going at it or what!?

Five.

In fact he would, if that didn’t require his own ‘sweet purple butt’ to be on the billboard as well. And Boxman’s sweet green one.

Four.

Oh Cob, now he couldn’t stop thinking about Boxman’s sweet green…

**3**

Dang it, he hated putting on a show for anyone at all. He’d had enough of posturing as a hero.

Two.

And yet, there he was, about to put on a show once again.

One. 

Yup!

He strode through the milling crowd to where Boxman was, grabbed him and lifted him up into a deep, showy kiss, one hand firmly planted on his sweet tuxedoed butt and the other on the small of his back.

Boxman yelped and his eyes went wide, his stubby legs kicking once, before clamping around Venomous’s waist, his fingers and talons digging into his shoulders. Then he greedily dove into the kiss.

Venomous should have rejoiced at the chorus of cheers and scandalized gasps, but once he was wrapped in Boxman’s heat and softness, bodies pressed together, breaths mingling, his weight grounding him, he couldn’t care about anything else anymore.

In the cocoon of Boxman’s familiar presence, in the middle of the stupid party, all anger and irritation abated and left behind only the joy of having his Boxy in his life.

And everyone else be danged.

“Boxy-love, didn’t you have a few detonators on you?”

“I thought you’d never ask, PV,” Boxman grinned down at him and whipped a detonator out of thin air. “Wanna do the honors?”

Venomous did. Very much so.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> They had it coming~ _🎵🎶_ They had it coming~ _🎵🎶_ They only had themselves to blame~ _🎵🎶_
> 
> Any thoughts and feelings on the problems of the young couple? Any personal experiences? Any emoji?


	10. Kisses To Distract

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is the sculpture I had in mind when writing this, in its natural habitat in Naoshima:
> 
> It's a famous work of Art (TM) by [Yayoi Kusama](http://yayoi-kusama.jp/e/information/), but I just think it's funny. XD
> 
> Also, I swear cucurbitaceous is a real word, wtf English.

Boxman and Venomous, locked in a heated kiss, stumbled into the still empty exhibition hall at Billiam Milliam’s mansion, which was the only place where the numerous party guests weren’t allowed, yet.

“Oh, PV, how can you always taste so delicious?” Boxman exhaled into the collar of his dress shirt and immediately latched onto the pulsing vein on the side of his throat, leaving a trail of sloppy, greedy kisses and gentle bites.

Venomous moaned. “R-remember that we’re here for a h-aaah… heissst… hmm, yes, Boxy, right there…” he managed to whisper before Boxman’s talons sank into his butt through the thin fabric of his summer suit, sending a shiver up his entire spine.

“Yeah, yeah,” Boxman purred and outright lifted him off the ground, looking around for a place to continue. Venomous melted - he went weak at the knees at even the most casual display of Boxman’s considerable strength, and being lifted up and manhandled? He didn’t stand a chance.

And then Boxman tripped and almost dropped him.

“What is that _thing_?” he asked, momentarily distracted from Venomous, who bristled and clutched Boxman tighter, before giving the thing a disgruntled look.

It was a sculpture of an enormous garishly spotted (and slightly rotten-looking) orange pumpkin surrounded by several equally psychedelic baby pumpkins. In a white box of a room.

“That’s the art piece I told you about, the one that we-”

“It’s perfect,” Boxman chirped and plopped him on top of one of the small pumpkins, conveniently compensating for their height difference. “Now, where were we?” he grinned and wriggled his eyebrows.

“Are you sure this is a g-aaah!” 

Boxman attacked his neck again, grabby hands slithering under Venomous's suit jacket to trace the shape of his body and to pull him closer. Venomous’s knees immediately parted to accommodate him.

Boxman hummed approvingly and slid one hand down his hip and thigh, while his mouth traveled up his jaw. He took a moment to nibble an earlobe before finding his panting, half-open mouth again.

“Box, I think we’re-”

“What, you can still talk? I must be losing my touch,” Boxman giggled and sucked on the already a little swollen purple lip that glistened so temptingly.

Venomous’s breath came in quicker, and he writhed on the uncomfortable pumpkin whose stem was trying to go places only Boxman was allowed to go. He tilted his head more to deepen the kiss while his arms wrapped around Boxman’s strong shoulders. Cob, he could feel the muscles move under the softness and the clothes, and he was absolutely _weak_ for that…

“You… don’t think…” he valiantly tried to reason with the last of his resolve melting into a radioactive puddle, “that anyone saw us get in here, right?”

“Nah, they were all too busy sucking up to Billiam,” Boxman said, nuzzling his cheekbone while one hand was pulling at his necktie knot, trying to expose more of the slender purple neck.

“There may be security cameras,” Venomous said absently, trailing his palms all over Boxman’s delectably huggable belly and practically salivating over it.

Boxman licked the tip of one purple ear and then gave it a playful nibble. But then his eyebrows furrowed a bit. 

“Does it bother you? Being seen?” He then added sheepishly, “cos I think it’s hot.”

“Yes, it is,” Venomous sighed dreamily while groping both of Boxman’s biceps.

“Then that’s all that matters. I don’t care if we get caught if you don’t. I just want to make out.”

“Oh, Boxy…” Venomous’s arms wrapped around Boxman’s neck and he pressed his entire body into the welcoming, familiar warmth, while their mouths found each other again.

“Hey,” he grinned particularly evilly in a moment. “Do you want to continue this on top of the big one?” He motioned with his head towards the cucurbitaceous[1] monstrosity occupying the middle of the room.

“I thought you’d never ask,” Boxman grinned back, just as evilly.

* * *

Billiam Millaim would have been tearing his hair clean off his head, had it not been made of gold, as he stared up at the ginormous screen. In fact, every single villain, minion and henchman in his whole mansion was probably gathered in the lobby to stare at it.

Up until fifteen minutes ago, it had been showing in real-time his latest acquisition, an incredibly expensive classical sculpture whose unveiling had been the official reason for the posh party. For the last fifteen minutes, however…

“Really, Venomous?” Cosma said, somehow sounding both impressed and unimpressed at the same time. “You’re the three-time winner of the _Temps’s_ ‘Sexiest Villain Alive’ annual ranking, and _that’s_ the one you picked? Did you find him in your trash can or something?”

“I dunno,” Big Bull commented, tilting his head at 90 degrees to better follow the action and covering Small Calf Demon’s eyes. “The cyborg’s _very_ spiffy for a guy of that… shape. Very flexible, too. I couldn’t do that with my metallic parts.”

The crowd applauded a particularly interesting use of the big polka-dotted pumpkin sculpture’s stem.

“Well, at least that solves the mystery of Boxmore’s acquisition,” Vormulax concluded, slurping her cocktail through an evil plastic straw, eyes glued to the screen. “Dang, the bookies are going to have a field day. If there is a crazy genius out there who bet on _this_ being the reason, they’re going to be richer than Billiam very soon.”

“Hey, is anyone recording this? I need it for… reasons,” Succulentus Jr. chimed in, having discovered something new about himself while watching the video.

Billiam Milliam, who had had designs of his own on certain parts of Venomous now thoroughly featured on the screen, daintily stomped his feet, steaming in frustration.

* * *

Meanwhile, unobserved by anyone at all, a squad of Darrells cheerfully carried Billiam’s entire gold bullion out the back door. As far as heists went, this was the easiest one they’d ever been in.

“Wow, Professor Venomous must be really good at distractions!” The Darrells all thought in admiration. It really paid to have such a devious, laser-focused villain on their team!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Apparently, just like you can add the suffix -ine to the Latin names of common animal families (minus apes/humans) and get words like feline, equine and vulpine, you can add -ceous to common plant families to get "of, relating to, or possessing the characteristics of" that family! They act like normal adjectives, but are usually not in common circulation like canine and bovine. Cucurbitaceous (of, relating to or resembling a gourd) is actually one of the more common ones and comes up in most non-specialized dictionaries!
> 
> This whole one-shot happened only because I saw that word in a scientific article, and it all grew from there. XDD  
> Back
> 
> * * *
> 
> So, what do you think, were the kisses distracting enough? >] Did they distract **you** from the fact our bbs were there for a heist? >]


	11. A Kiss After A Small Rejection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So today's chapter is twice the size of the usual ones, so I guess you're getting a bonus? Enjoy anyway~

Not that Boxman was an incurable romantic, but waking up to a cold, empty bed when he was used to sharing it with (a mostly nocturnal) certain someone seemed kind of rude. Not worrying, no, there was nothing to worry about. But… worth checking out.

So his first stop was the kitchen, where he found Fink sipping hot chocolate and going through what looked like a stack of sales orders. Boxman blinked in surprise. He didn’t see her very often doing… actual minion stuff. Huh.

“Already fed ‘im,” Fink answered his query distractedly and set aside a few of the documents in a separate pile. “If I were you, I’d stay out of his hair for now. It’s that time, you know.”

Boxman didn’t. And before he could find a tactful way to ask, Fink finished reviewing her documents, took her hot chocolate and gave him one last glare.

“I’ll be working in boss’s lab today. And you stay away, _capiche_?”

Boxman did capiche. As soon as her back was turned, he trotted to Venomous’s office.

* * *

“OUT!” Venomous shouted before the door even properly opened and a rubber ducky flew towards the peeking Box.

**SLAM**

“And stay out!” carried through the now closed door. 

Boxman willed his ruffled feathers to settle down, took a brief moment to consider committing violence against the office door, before then shaking his fists in exasperation and stomping off.

_Fine then! Let the grouch stew all by himself, devoid of my loving early morning cuddles! See how he likes it! Hmpf!_

* * *

As it turned out, Venomous didn’t avail himself of the generous supply of free cuddles at lunch either, or after lunch, or in the evening. Fink bearing food was the only one who went in and out of the closed office, which Boxman had not at all been keeping his eye on. This wasn’t what Boxman had pictured living with Venomous would be like, even after accounting for the impracticality of having daily romantic flights on the desk with sparkling apple cider, Belgian truffles and light-grade missiles. 

After it got dark and his children disappeared off to their rooms and the factory slowed down for the night, Boxman started to feel a little… well, he started to feel Venomous’s absence a little too keenly. Which shouldn’t have happened, really, Boxmore was practically the same as it had always been, and he had never missed anything before while he still had his work.

Venomous probably also had his work. Or whatever he was doing in there. Really, Boxman shouldn’t disturb him, he thought. He’d made it very clear that he didn’t want to be disturbed. It was the mature thing to do.

Five minutes later, Boxman stuck his ear to the forbidden office door. 

After a moment, he imagined he could hear a low growl.

He cracked the door open just a bit and peeked in. No shouts. The professor was in his office chair, seemingly unaware of the peeping Box, scribbling furiously in red pen in a thick and fancy book. In a moment, he stopped to rub tiredly below his stern professorial glasses.

_Oooh, PV in stern glasses_ , Boxman swooned, forgetting for a moment that he was supposed to be all rejected and offended.

He used the moment to whoosh into the room and duck behind a big potted plant conveniently put midway between the door and the desk. Again, no shouts and no projectiles. He dared to take a peek through the foliage.

Venomous continued to scribble. It was probably best not to disturb him. He did look awfully serious…

“Heya, PV! Watcha doing?” 

“Oh my Cob!!” Venomous jumped in his chair and clutched at his black, black heart.

Boxman poked the top of his head from behind the desk, giving Venomous his best big, shimmery eyes. Venomous sighed and rubbed below his eyes again.

“Can I help you, Boxman,” he growled.

“Well, it’s getting late, and I was wondering...”

“No! No, I cannot go to bed before I finish this infernal nightmare!” Venomous hissed and stabbed the big fancy book with his pen.

“What is it? Can I help?”

“It’s PhD dissertation season, and they stuck me with thissss,” he flicked his forked tongue at the book “ _filth_. This absolute _trash_. This unholy _abomination_. And I have to review it and give my ‘expert opinion,’ Cob ‘em all! Whoever allowed these people to do interdisciplinary dissertations, WHO!?” he screeched and pulled his hair.

“Errr...” Boxman scratched his green tuft, vaguely remembering that _for other people_ , getting a degree did indeed involve defending a thesis in front of an examiners’ board. Personally, he’d received his in exchange for the promise to never, _ever_ approach his alma mater again, and especially not with anything even remotely explosive at hand. Less of a defense of his thesis, more of an offense, if you will.

“Last year,” Venomous hissed, looking only slightly wild, “one absolute little _git_ did an interdisciplinary between _social sciences_ and _astrophysics_.” He grabbed Boxman by the lapels and dragged him on the desk. “They couldn’t get the examiners to so much as sit in the same room without a fistfight breaking out! Social Science! And Astrophysics, Boxman!”

Boxman, wide-eyed, patted his head in commiseration and alarm.

“And this year, her cobsdanged little boyfriend is applying _Marxist theory_ to _coastal shrimp populationsss_! And I have to review it! I don’t even know what half of it even meansss!” Venomous shook Boxman as if he’d personally educated the shrimp about Marxism, and then drooped, thunked his head on the desk and went on murmuring something while blindly stabbing the dissertation with his pen.

“Ooookayyy,” Boxman took a deep breath, adjusted his lapels and slicked his hair. “Desperate times, eh?”

Venomous grumbled indistinctly.

“Hey, PV, these are reading glasses, right?” He asked cheerfully and plopped his butt on the edge of the desk. “You can see just fine without them?”

Another grumble and a stab to the dissertation.

“Aaalright,” Boxman dispenned him, grabbed him by the labcoat collar, and unceremoniously lifted him to sit up straight. “Maybe enough commie shrimp for one day?”

Venomous glared, but didn’t protest. 

“Can I take off your glasses?” Boxman asked, cupping his cheeks and wiggling to sit between him and the abused book.

“Okay,” Venomous said, and was it Boxman’s imagination, or did he get a bit more purple at that?

Boxman’s fingers gently slid up stubbly purple cheeks and into shiny black hair and carefully caught the temples of the glasses. Venomous didn’t say anything when he lifted them off his face and put them away, just blinked adorably short-sightedly while his eyes adjusted.

“Heh,” Boxman giggled as he cupped his face again. “You have little purple marks on your nose now.”

“It’s been a long time since I wore them all day,” Venomous mumbled, looking up at Boxman.

Boxman’s fingers slowly slid up to rub at the marks - first his right hand, and then, when Venomous didn’t stop him, the sharply-taloned left hand, too. Venomous seemed completely unperturbed by the wickedly sharp talon mere millimeters away from his eye. Boxman rubbed gently away from the nose once, then twice, and Venomous’s eyes fluttered closed.

“Feels nice,” he murmured.

So Boxman continued to gently massage his face, careful not to let the rough, scaly skin of his left hand chafe the worryingly tired and thin-looking skin of his partner. Who purred quietly in the otherwise cosy relative silence of nighttime Boxmore. Boxman stifled a snicker.

“You know,” he said instead, “I was hoping to find you in bed this morning. Usually I’m the one who wakes up earlier.”

“Commie shrimp,” Venomous hissed lazily, eyes still blissfully closed.

“Maaaybe you could have left me a note?” And then he imagined waking up to an empty bed and a note saying nothing but ‘commie shrimp.’ “Well, maybe with a bit more than just that on it.”

Venomous shrugged noncommittally. 

“It’s just good to know what’s up with you, you know. So I don’t, er… so we’re on the same page.”

“You don’t think I would prefer the shrimp over sleeping late with you if I had any choice, do you?” Venomous cracked open an eye.

“I didn’t know _they_ were my rival,” Boxman snickered. “But now that I know, should I grow a mustache like theirs? Since you like them so much.”

“Don’t you dare,” Venomous chuckled. “And they’re called whiskers.”

Boxman’s fingers slid into his hair and went on gently massaging his scalp. Venomous practically melted.

The angle was awful, though, so Boxman slid off the edge of the desk and settled comfortably into Venomous’s lap. He was immediately pressed into a constrictor hug.

“I’m not used to telling anyone what I’m doing,” Venomous said, eyes closed and head leaning on Boxman’s hands. “Fink knows my schedule already and adjusts. I didn’t think you’d probably like to know too.”

“You can do whatever you want,” Boxman said neutrally. “I just… want to help. And if I can’t, I can at least drag you away before the commie shrimp kill you through overwork.”

“That sounds amazing,” Venomous breathed and leaned in for a soft, slow kiss on Boxman’s smiling lips. “Thank you.”

“Come here,” Boxman ordered quietly and propped Venomous’s head on his shoulder. Then he continued to rub gently his neck and down his back.

He didn’t think that such a trick would work, but in a bit, Venomous’s breathing evened out in that particular way Boxman knew so well, and he went to sleep.

Boxman smiled and waited a bit more before he gently climbed out of the office chair and picked up his sleeping partner in his arms.

Venomous just hissed quietly and nuzzled into Boxman’s neck as he carried him to bed.

* * *

The next morning, Boxman woke up to an empty bed once again, right next to a yellow sticky note saying “The commie shrimp are calling me! Come save them from me at 9 pm.”

He snickered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so I'm running a poll here, would you read the "absolute little git's" interdisciplinary crossover between social sciences and astrophysics, or would you rather read "her cobsdanged little boyfriend's" application of Marxist theory to coastal shrimp populations? XDDD
> 
> Any headcanons about what PV is like as a professor are also welcome! <3


End file.
